


The Making of a Mech

by StringTheories



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dark, Gen, hostile aliens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1403836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StringTheories/pseuds/StringTheories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blast Off is aristocratic, aloof, and "civilized". Not exactly your typical Combaticon. He's also cold- yet lonely- working to hide his true feelings. So how did he get to be the way he is and become a Combaticon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (Far too) Close Encounters

(OOC: Hi, this is my first fanfic here, and one of the few I've written like this so far. I have enjoyed reading the many fanfics here and finally decided to join and post one of my own.   
I RP as Blast Off on a RPing Mush (http://transformers2005.wikia.com- please, come check us out and consider joining! :)) and have really had a fun time trying to get inside his head. This series will basically be me exploring how Blast Off may have become the mech he is today (well, by the 2005 Mush's world/time, at least). There are some great versions of Blast Off already being written, but this is my own personal exploration. I hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment! :)  
Ok, enough prattle. Time for the launch! ;))

 

********************************************************

Blast Off's Journal Entry, Stardate 2035:

To the unwashed masses, and indeed to my closest friends (that is, if I have any), I suppose I must appear as cold and distant as the far reaches of the galaxy that I so effortlessly soar through. But I have my reasons. In fact, you could almost say I have two lifetimes worth of them.

********************************************************  
The Distant Past.  
A very long time ago, long before the war:

Blast Off soars through space, quite alone- and enjoying himself. This is his element, after all. It’s what he was built for. The shuttle speeds along- but only as fast as he *must*. For he is truly not in any hurry at all. There are so many amazing sights to be seen out here, after all. And his job is to chart galaxies and potential resources for his fellow Cybertronians. He’s a *space shuttle* after all…. One of the few, elite Cybertronians who can achieve orbit on their own volition. It’s a shame there are so few, but he’s special- and he knows it. It’s too bad he doesn’t get to spend more time with his fellow space farers, but they’re busy with their own jobs. He does enjoy the moments they share back at home- or when they happen upon each other out here. Special times that no planet-bound mech could understand.

The eager explorer flies past a planet, taking readings for later analysis by scientists. Hmmm… looks like more of those odd “organic” creatures he sometimes comes across. He doesn’t feel strongly one way or another about the strange biological organisms… just completely neutral, as an explorer and science vessel ought to. He stores the data as he makes long-distance scans. The odds are these creatures are inferior to mechanical life, but still… they’re part of the galaxy Blast Off loves, so he simply accepts their existence for what it is.

A few quartexs later, the shuttle is leaving that solar system and heading into a new one with a giant sun in the center and and thirteen planets in orbit. His mission has been going well so far. It usually does. The galaxy is vast, but Blast Off feels secure in it. He is meant to be here, after all. Sure, he gets a little lonely sometimes and it’s nice when scientists can come with him. He doesn’t overly mind anyone riding inside. He doesn’t love it either, since it does feel a bit odd, but even if they scuff his flooring or make too much noise with their scientific equipment the company is welcome. Yet sometimes there are excursions that need to be made and not enough people to send out on them all. 

That’s when it works better to fly and chart things out alone, and he has yet to run into any problems. He’s quite fast, skilled and he’s always had good luck. Each Cybertronian shuttle gets equipped with some basic defense weapons, and he carries some side laser cannons, but he’s never really had to use them in earnest.

Blast Off’s luck is about to change. 

A space ship appears on Blast Off’s long range scanners. Once Blast Off detects that the ship is not sentient, but is instead piloted by mere organic creatures, he ceases to pay it that much attention- though he does keep track of it, of course. Over the course of several dozen breems, it closes the gap between the two craft. His scanners soon tell him the ship’s creatures come from that organic planet he passed by earlier. Their ship is surprisingly fast, managing to gain on even him- and he is exceptionally fast already. He’s not sure he likes this.

He likes it even less when they hail him. ***Unidentified alien shuttle. This is Krylaxxian Ship Interceptor. Identify yourself and state reasons for intruding on Krylaxxian space.*** His language program has to run an analysis on their speech, but he eventually reaches an understanding thanks to a vast database of algorithms and information.

For now, the Cybertronian shuttle simply ignores them and continues on. But they continue to close the gap, still hailing him. Blast Off eventually gets tired of this, and, with a small huff, responds. ***Krylaxxian ship. This is …Cybertronian Blast Off. I was unaware that this was “Krylaxxian space”. I am simply traveling through the area and shall be on my way shortly.***

The ship gets closer. ***We are unfamiliar with Cybertronian ships. Please slow down and prepare for inspection and boarding.***

Blast Off huffs again to himself. As if he’s letting them board him! He fires up thrusters to full and rockets off in response. ***Negative. I am merely passing through. I shall be gone shortly.*** In the meantime, he starts warming up the laser cannons he has mounted on the sides of his fuselage. 

Unfortunately, the ship is slightly faster than he is, and is soon close by- too close by. He aims his side lasers at them, and repeats, ***I said, I am merely passing through. You may “escort” me from a distance if you like, but do not interfere with Cybertronian business. I will fire if you do not back down.*** All the ships Blast Off had encountered so far had either been reasonably friendly, completely indifferent- or intimidated once he fired a few laser blasts at them. Or he’s simply been able to outrun them- his speed is usually far superior. Not this time. Instead, the other ship responds by firing off a shot of its own- one that connects and rips into the sides of his fuselage. Rocked by the surprisingly powerful hit, the shuttle’s systems begin emergency repair as he immediately engages in evasive maneuvers. 

This isn’t good. Blast Off is out here, completely alone- and under surprisingly powerful attack. He *does* have superior agility on his side, however, and though the enemy ship (and yes, it certainly appears to be one) is a little faster than he, it is not as maneuverable. Now fully on alert, he evades shot after shot. If he can just exhaust their fuel reserves, perhaps they will realize the futility of their attacks and…wait, what’s that?

A wide flash of electrostatic beams suddenly reach through space and immediately put the shuttle’s systems on the fritz. Blast Off suddenly finds himself unable to function well…. The beam of charged particles nearly short-circuits his navigation and targeting controls. Struggling to regain that control, he doesn’t have long- because a second blast finishes what the first attack started. Blast Off cries out in surprise and pain as every circuit in his frame feels like it’s on fire- then is plunged into a cold as icy as the empty space he now simply coasts through, unable to fight or flee.

Soon, the Krylaxxian ship pulls alongside the crippled Cybertronian. He receives another radio message, ***You should have just listened to us. Now, we will inspect your ship- and you! Prepare for boarding. Do not resist further or we will meet you with deadly force.*** A hatch opens, and a smooth-skinned, space-suited organic alien launches himself at Blast Off’s cargo bay door, attaching a tube-like device. Soon, several of the organics have joined him inside the tube. They force open Blast Off’s door, and step inside- guns drawn and expecting to meet a crew. There is none, of course. The shocked Cybertronian simply remains silent.

The alien crew runs through Blast Off’s cargo bay, then split up- one group heading up to the flight deck, or cockpit, where his control panels are while the other group starts rummaging through his cargo. He carries multiple samples from various planets he’s charted. They’ve been carefully catalogued and represent months of work, placed inside the bay with a shuttle “arm” he carries in his alt mode. Slag it, this isn’t good. But what can he do? The shuttle is at a loss. He isn’t really equipped to deal with intruders INSIDE him. Certainly not while as damaged as he is now.

The leader of the Krylaxxian crew seems to be with the group heading towards Blast Off’s flight deck. He commands the others to search out every nook and cranny for the “missing crew”- and they do so by kicking doors open, then swinging their guns as they step through and prepare to fire…. Only to be met with nothing. The leader snarls, “Where IS he? Or THEY, most likely… They can’t have just disappeared….” Blast Off marvels at their presumptuousness. They aren’t even considering that HE is the life form, are they? What truly primitive creatures they are- primitive, but also a great threat. And up close and personal, they seem much more aggressive than they originally let on.

Blast Off isn’t capable of much now, but he does what he can. His first response is to lock doors and compartments as best he can- at least until they start blasting those doors and locks open and he decides to come up with a different strategy. Then he runs his ventilation systems as cold as he can without damaging his cargo outright, and blasts a scratchy static over his internal loudspeakers. It irritates the Krylaxxians, who become noticeably uncomfortable, shivering and glancing up at the speakers. Blast Off watches back with internal cameras. The leader points at the cameras. “See? I bet they’re in the cockpit, watching us from those.” He points his gun at the camera. “You can’t hide forever, you know! Let’s go!” 

Meanwhile, the aliens in his cargo bay are kicking open some the carefully packaged crates, then rummaging through assorted panels and any compartments they can find. They search for the “missing” crew as well, to no avail of course. When Blast Off turns the heaters down, they begin to shiver as well- but one heathen rips open a vent cover to start trying to crawl inside and see if the crew is there- or maybe at least fix the heater! UGH, NO. Organic aliens crawling in his ventilation systems, blasting open doors, damaging his walls, floors, sophisticated circuitry, and his cargo… this is too much. His engines rev weakly in protest, and he lurches to the side, sending some of the cargo- and aliens- ramming up against his side walls. 

Hmmm. He decides to go all the way. This will damage more cargo, but he doesn’t have much of a choice now. The shuttle turns off his internal gravity systems and opens his cargo bay door again; knocking aside the alien’s ship boarding tube and sucking most of his cargo bay’s contents back into space. This includes several very shocked aliens. The ones who were foolish enough to remove their protective helmets are dead as soon as they try to take a breath of air. The others still fully suited up will be fine… more or less, as long as they make it back to their ship relatively soon. 

This leaves the group heading to his flight deck. The sudden lack of “gravity” disorients them temporarily, but they are much further in and already past a few doors and hatches, so they continue to make their way by kicking against walls, floor and ceiling. Blast Off is desperate to prevent them from getting to their destination, but… how? He’s running out of options- and functioning systems. He decides to ramp up the level of noise coming from his speakers- suddenly blasting a Cybertronian symphony he enjoys listening to as loudly as he can. The aliens clutch at their helmets in pain, and one shoots at the speakers, too, before the leader stops him. “We’ll get there soon enough, then they’ll find out we are not amused by their little games!” The shooter blinks at him, and yells, “…WHAT DID YOU SAY?” The leader rolls his eyes and just points in the direction of the flight deck door.

Slag it all…. What can he do? Blast Off is usually quite calm, but this…this is humiliating and unacceptable…. How dare these organic, inferior thugs invade his personal space like this!? A growing anger- and even a little fear- join his pain. He wants them OUT… NOW. Get out of his flight deck, out of his cargo bay… stop tromping around in there, messing everything up and hurting him. There is one last thing to try, it just better work. They think he’s just an inanimate object, do they? He begins a very robotic sounding countdown, static still crackling loudly.

***Commencing ship destruction sequence Alpha Sixty. Program continues as long as intruders on board. Commencing countdown. 60… 59… 58… 57…*** He starts a slow countdown, trying to give the aliens time to panic and get the pit out of there.

Some of them do indeed panic, but the leader does not. Now looking a bit nervous but determined to continue on, he yells over the countdown, “IT’S PROBABLY A TRICK!!!” With that, he makes his way to the cockpit door- and kicks it open triumphantly! Only to find…. No one inside? 

***45…44…43…42… countdown will continue as long as intruders remain inside… recommencing… 41… 40…***

This bizarre revelation seems to finally unnerve the leader and he stares at the unmanned cockpit with its flashing emergency red lights, completely confused now. “But…but…where’d they go? How’d they disappear? What *is* this thing, remote controlled?” He glances nervously up at the speakers, where the countdown continues… then comes to a decision. “Alright, alright, let’s get out of here! Go! Go!” With that, the aliens hustle the best they can back the way they came. Finding the carnage in the cargo bay only adds to their horror, and they launch a cable to connect with the tube and make their way back to their ship- and the shipmates they can still save.

***22… 21..20..19..*** 

As soon as they leave, the countdown stops, and Blast Off watches- and sighs- with relief as they depart. The thrice-cursed spawns of the pit take some of his cargo, left floating in space now, after they rescue their crewmates. Loaded with their stolen bounty, the Krylaxxian ship heads off… leaving a badly injured, sentient shuttle to continue floating through space. For now, he’s too weak to transform or attempt to salvage what is left of his cargo. He tries to start his internal heating systems again but they are now unresponsive. So he is cold, badly injured… and all alone out here. He’s been attacked- inside and out. But what is there to do about it? He can only shut down all but (still functioning) essential systems and start his internal repairs again… and wait. It’s a slow process. 

He will be waiting a very long time before he’s even capable of returning home.

The Universe seems less friendly after this.


	2. Chance Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blast Off decides he needs to arm himself and goes looking for a better weapon. This leads to one of those interesting "chance encounters"....

It took a long time before Blast Off was able to repair himself and fly back home through space. The attack by the Krylaxxian ship had severely damaged the shuttle, and he spent a lot of time drifting out there alone. Something changed after that. He was never quite able to voice just what. He still wanted to explore space- in fact, he yearned for it, always…. Space exploration is what he was built for. Being unable to achieve orbit- and beyond- would be intolerable, in fact. 

But now he just knew he had to be more… careful, and less naive. If he was accompanied by scientists, he grew more quickly irritated if they caused any damage inside him, no matter how slight. And yet, during the times he flew alone…. he felt the absence of any company more severely than before. So many conflicting feelings… from a shuttleformer who liked to act as if he were too aloof and important to bother with them. It was confusing and irritating… which made him try all the harder just to shove it all away.

One thing he had learned from the Krylaxxian encounter was the need to defend himself. The standard issue weapons he had were obviously insufficient. He needed much better ones, but didn’t have a lot of experience with firearms besides those standard issue laser cannons mounted on his sides in shuttle mode. So Blast Off started inquiring where he might learn more, and purchase better weapons. He was even able to convince his employer, the Cybertronian Exploration Council, to approve the upgrade and provide him with a small stipend to help cover the costs. 

Not that he needed it, really… being a member of the CEC made him part of an elite group, and the shuttleformer had some wealth. When he wasn’t in space, he was rubbing elbows with high society, enjoying vintage high grade engex, talking about current issues of the day, having philosophical discussions and, of course, enjoying the fine music of the Kaon Opera House. Sometimes he enjoyed just spending time reading quietly in his (quite comfortable) habitation suite. 

He didn’t know it then, but this simple search to protect himself was going to change the course of his life.

……

A long time ago, before the war:

Blast Off walks into a gun shop in the elite district of Kaon. The city he lives in has both its good part of town- and its bad one. There have been an increasing number of fights breaking out, especially on the “wrong side of the tracks”. There is even word of organized gladiator battles. Blast Off just makes sure he doesn’t go to those areas- he has no time to waste with thugs and ruffians. This shop is in the “right” part of town, and he’s heard several good things about it. 

As he enters, the gun shop owner, a burly green mech, looks up. “Welcome.” Blast Off stops to look at him, and then gaze around the shop. The brown and purple shuttleformer knows he’s one of the important people, and tends to expect to be treated as such. Finally deigning to gaze back at the owner, he inquires, “I am looking for a weapon. For self defense.” His voice and demeanor are aristocratic and aloof- his standard attitude.

The burly mech nods. “Well, you came to the right place, bud. We got a wide selection here- rifles, blasters, cannons, you name it. A few customs, too. Plus, we got bombs, stun guns, well…. slag, all kinds of artillery… you name it.” He begins showing the shuttle some of these weapons, and Blast Off peruses various makes and models. But just as he begins to ask a question about which weapon might best suit him, a weapons supplier comes in with a shipment. “Hold on a sec…” says the shop owner as he rushes off to deal with the new inventory.

Blast Off waits for awhile, but eventually begins to grow less patient. He shouldn’t be kept waiting like this. Still picking up various weapons, he tries his hands at holding a rifle, aiming it, and dry firing it. It seems… awkward.

“I don’t think that rifle quite suits you. You need something… more refined, if my hunch is correct.”

Blast Off turns around at this new voice, and the weapons supplier is standing there behind him. He’s a shorter, tan and purple mech with purple optics and a snake oil smile on his face. “Yeah… that’s what I thought. You’re one of them CEC shuttles, aren’t you? You’re looking for a good overall weapon you can use anywhere, even in space. And, heh, you want something …elegant, am I right?”

Blast Off blinks once at the mech. This guy is surprisingly perceptive. He replies evenly, “Yes, you are correct. I am… new to this. What would you recommend?”

The tan mech smiles even more, raising up a finger as he makes a point. “I think I know just the thing…” He reaches back into one of his crates, being unpacked by some transport mechs he brought with him. “Ah, here we go!” The weapons supplier brings out a gun and hefts it in his hands, judging the weight. “Yeah, this might have the right balance. Here, try it out. Ionic blaster. This little beauty disrupts the electrical systems of your targets, stopping ‘em cold.”

Still looking rather detached about all this, Blast Off reaches for the gun and holds it. Hmmm, something about it does feel much more balanced to him than the others he’d tried. It also looks… expensive, not that that’s a bad thing. The weapons dealer adds, “There’s a shooting range in the back there, if you want to try it out. Only 10 shanix for 20 rounds! Quite a deal!”

Blast Off looks at the mech. “Really,” he responds dryly, but does eventually end up doing just that. The weapons dealer gives him a few shooting pointers, and the shuttle settles in for a shot. The first shot doesn’t hit the bull’s-eye, missing it by a few inches. Blast Off huffs slightly in annoyance, then tries again, getting a little closer this time. 

The weapons dealer watches with interest. Whether it’s real or feigned, who knows, but the customer seems to be the center of his universe… at least when he’s trying to sell something. “Heh, not bad. Most people don’t hit near the center of the target their first time. Sight it in a little to the left, and try again.”

Blast Off does so… and this time shoots several rounds within an inch of each other that just hit the bull’s-eye. He lets out another huff. The other mech’s optic ridge raises. “What’s a matter? For a newbie, that’s a slaggin’ good first go.” 

“But it’s not perfect,” Blast Off grumbles.

“Heh, with a natural talent like that, plus that streak of perfectionism ya seem to have … give it some time and it just might be.”

The shuttleformer blinks and slowly looks over at the other mech, his gaze still aloof and voice quiet. “Natural… talent?” 

Before he knows it, he’s bought the blaster. Each shot group had gotten tighter and tighter, and the weapons dealer looked more and more impressed. “Wow, you know, I think you’re definitely a natural at this. Keep at it and you might really get good.” It’s possible the other mech was just buttering him up. Likely, in fact. But still… Blast Off likes the idea of having a natural talent. Yet another thing he is simply better at than most anyone else. Natural talents… should be explored. Besides, the blaster felt right in his hands. Like… it belonged there.

Just before leaves, the dealer hands him a card. “Name’s Swindle. Pleasure to meet ya. Want to try out some more guns, just let me know.”

Blast Off accepts the card, nods politely, and leaves without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a nod to a fellow TF2K5 Mush RPer for coming up with the Cybertronian Exploration Council. Thanks, Sky Lynx! Again- feel feel to check us out: http://transformers2005.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page


	3. Confrontation on Cybertron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now more familiar with his weapon, Blast Off must decide whether to use it as some drunken thugs threaten him.

Over the next century or two, Blast Off would see Swindle from time to time at the gun shop. The weapons dealer seemed to know his stuff, and the shuttle would occasionally buy new weapons, upgrades, or battery packs from him. As Blast Off practiced in the shooting range, his aim quickly improved over his already favorable beginnings. Soon, both store personnel and customers were stopping what they were doing just to watch him shoot. During those times Swindle happened to be there, the other mech would watch and whistle as if quite impressed. “Yep, I knew you had a natural talent….” Blast Off would say nothing, looking as aloof as ever, but he was secretly just a little bit pleased at the admiration. 

It was good that he was learning to defend himself, too. Times were getting more chaotic. There was increasing political strife, and tensions were rising all around. Gladiatorial fights had become established in secret locations around Kaon. It bothered Blast Off a little that the city he lived in, the city that he enjoyed because of its elite district and cultural highlights such as the Kaon Opera House, was getting associated in the public’s mind with something else entirely. Something far more… brutish. He tried to simply stay in the elite district while he was planetside and avoid that seedy underbelly, but the shadows began to seep into even his life. 

The Cybertronian Exploration Council, his professional pride and joy, became more beaurocratic and inefficient as politics became more fractured and Cybertron’s goals less unified. For someone as perfectionistic as he, it was truly disconcerting to experience. Especially when Blast Off’s first… and perhaps only… love was exploring space. He was getting grounded more often, which only meant having to deal even more frequently with the strife on Cybertron. 

It got worse… the streets of Kaon became less safe, and the shuttleformer was actually threatened a few times while walking about alone. His quick reflexes saved him one time, and he was simply able to dart out of harm’s way. Another time, however, some thugs who looked like they might have just come from the gladiatorial fights tried to advance in on him on an isolated street overpass.

Unfortunately for Blast Off, the overpass was enclosed at that particular location so he couldn’t just transform and fly away. It appeared the thugs had specifically picked that spot for a victim to happen by so they could jump them while they couldn’t escape easily. They were drunk and spoiling for a fight, leering at the shuttleformer as they advanced in on him. Blast Off, not used to being threatened and trapped like this on his own planet, stepped back, wondering what to do. It was… alarming, but more than that- it was insulting. How *dare* such common criminals threaten a sophisticated space shuttle? Is this what Cyberton was coming to?

That’s when he remembered his blaster. Just as one of the mechs lunged at him, Blast Off pulled his weapon from subspace and pointed it at his attacker as he dodged to the side. “What ARE you doing?” Disdain creeped into his voice, “Go home and sleep it off…” The big drunk mech did not head his advice, instead lunging at him again with an uppercut… which Blast Off again avoided. Always naturally quick on his feet, he kept one step ahead as the other mech kept swinging at him and his buddies watched “Do not make me use this…” He warned, but slowed for just a fraction too long as he talked.

One of the big mech’s uppercuts finally connected, and it sent Blast Off flying. Landing with a thud, he quickly pushed himself back up, a little unsteady. Being a space shuttle, he had intricate, sophisticated and admittedly rather delicate circuitry and … that hurt. He wasn’t built with the endurance for close-quarter fighting… but that was Ok, since he didn’t generally fight anyway. Then the other mech lunged at him again. Blast Off’s optics widened a little as his gun swung back up around- and he fired.

The mech fell immediately, his landing impact creating a hollow metallic echo through the walls of the walkway. The sound seemed to break his buddies of their aggressive stalking… and after a confused look, they backed away. Blast Off stood there, vents cycling a bit faster than usual, weapon in hand and looking down at his attacker for a long moment. The other mech twitched and groaned and Blast Off took a step back. Sounding calm and unflappable again, he stated, “You should have listened to me…” Then he turned and walked away. 

Blast Off never reported the incident. The whole thing had been disconcerting. He was also concerned the CEC might frown upon his actions or try to penalize him in some way. In addition, the shuttleformer was simply a very private individual and he figured it was none of their business, anyway. 

Lastly… there was something else. He realized he probably should have been more negatively affected by having to shoot someone, but…. he felt very little in that regard. He still didn’t actively *want* to shoot anyone and would have been much happier simply being left alone to enjoy a nice, quiet evening. But the big, drunk mech had asked for it by attacking him. And at that moment he stood and looked down upon the crumpled form…. he felt just a bit of triumph. Of… power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter in my background story. If you're reading this and enjoying it, I'd love to hear from you! :)


	4. Diverging Life Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blast Off begins to find new ways to pay the bills, which leads to a possible lucrative job offer from an odd individual.

Blast Off continued to keep trying to simply do his job and mind his own business, while hoping others would just mind theirs. People were… annoying, but as long as he had a job to do, Blast Off could deal with them… for the most part. But the various ongoing problems facing Cybertron were only getting worse. He could almost deal with them, too… except that the Cybertronian Exploration Council started to get further bogged down with delays and lack of shared vision. The shuttleformer’s work assignments started drying up and his visits to space became fewer and fewer. That was bad enough- but then there was also the matter of expenses. 

Blast Off was used to the finer things in life- nights at the Kaon opera, sipping the finest enerwine, having enough wealth that he could keep a buffer between himself and the unruly riffraff. He still had enough shanix to last awhile, but if the situation at the CEC continued he was going to have to start thinking of alternative means of income. Well, he *could* offer his services as a transport, ferrying people or cargo across the galaxy… but that would mean letting the general public tromp around inside his cargo bay. Over time, especially after that… incident so many years ago… Blast Off had gotten much less inclined to tolerate such things. 

That’s when another option surfaced. He was still visiting the gun shop and shooting range from time to time, and it was there that the weapons dealer Swindle made one of his little “suggestions”. The tan and purple mech stood back, watching Blast Off practice shooting his ionic blaster. With him were two other mechs. “See?” He said to them, “I told you he was good. You should ask him.” Once the shuttleformer was done shooting, they did just that- approaching him and asking if he ever considered “security” work. “See, we have this trade line for goods that reaches from Cybertron to Spelokia Five… and we need an armed escort. Someone like you… someone who can shoot well and travel quickly in space… would be perfect.”

Blast Off refused… at first. But soon, as he watched the CEC degrade even further, and his funds shrink all the more…. He got in touch with Swindle and contacted those mechs on their personal frequencies. He soon had a job, and it wasn’t too bad- only one aggressive alien ship tried interception, and as soon as Blast Off fired off a shot the alien ship backed away. 

That job was followed by others as time allowed. The shuttleformer soon proved his worth, using his excellent aiming skills, speed and agility to defend transports and send aggressors packing. In addition, his ability as a transport himself also came in handy. Once, a ship he was escorting malfunctioned, and the only reason the cargo got there in time was because Blast Off (albeit grudgingly) allowed himself to be loaded up with the cargo and flew it quickly to its destination. 

Word got around. Soon Blast Off was spending almost as much time, and making more money, as a security escort than as a CEC shuttle. It was a bit bothersome, but in uncertain times the practical shuttle did what he needed to do to pay his bills. He was as aloof and unsocial as ever, but people didn’t need a security guard to be social, anyway- just good at their job.

...............................

 

A Long Time Ago, Shortly Before the War:

 

Blast off shoots at the range, honing his already sharp skills with the dedication of an individual who only accepts the best from -or for- himself. This is another of those times Swindle happens to be there, and again he brings a mech with him to watch. A quick glance at the newcomer and Blast Off suddenly feels put under a microscope. The unknown mech, a gray, medium-built Rotary of some sort, is watching him closely. His gaze is curious, intelligent… but there’s also a hint of something unpleasant, maybe a bit unbalanced, lurking underneath. It’s almost… predatory. This doesn’t faze the shuttleformer, though, he just huffs slightly and finishes shooting.

“Yep, I think he’ll do.” The gray mech comments to Swindle, then walks over to lean in and peer at Blast Off as he sits on the shooting bench, cleaning his blaster and putting it away. “Mind if I join you?” he asks, then promptly sits down next to the shuttle without waiting for an answer. Blast Off immediately decides the answer would have been “yes” if he’d had a chance to say it. He leans away just a bit, feeling annoyed now and trying to ignore the mech so he can get his things cleaned up and leave. 

The other mech just leans in more. “Name’s Vortex. Swindle here says you’re a good shot, and I can see that’s right. He also says you do security work… provide an armed escort across dangerous trade routes. And…” He tilts his head and seems to eye the shuttle in an appraising manner. “You’re capable of transporting those loads yourself if…uh, if need be.” Blast Off bristles internally, but keeps cleaning his weapon. The silence is “deafening” as he continues to ignore Vortex. This only causes the ‘coptor to seem to smirk even more under his faceplate. “Though I’d have to see that to believe it…” 

Blast Off can’t help an annoyed glance towards the gray mech, before finishing the cleaning with a gun cloth rubbed along the barrel. “What makes you think you ever *would*?” He asks quietly, annoyed edge to his voice. Vortex leans in. “I got a proposition for ya, that’s why. Or actually… my Boss has one.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “…A *good* paying proposition.”

Blast Off huffs softly and immediately replies, “I am not interested.” Weapon cleaned, he shifts it into subspace and stands up, preparing to leave. He nods to Swindle but not Vortex, who continues to sit and now looks up at the shuttleformer. 

“You sure about that?” Vortex asks Blast Off. “I know all about the CEC, I know the lifestyle you’re used to… and I know there’s NO WAY you are possibly getting the shanix you need to maintain that lifestyle right now…” Blast Off shoots him a venomous look, but Vortex continues, “Heh, it’s gotta be tough to be you right now…. But if you talk to my Boss, he and you might just come to a nice little agreement. Something nice for BOTH of ya. I imagine you wouldn’t need to worry about paying your bills for awhile…. Spend some time livin’ that high life, drinking your enerwine, stuff like that….” He makes a gesture like someone sipping from a wine glass, then laughs.

The shuttle huffs again and snaps, “How do you know about that?” Vortex just seems to grin again, replying, “Like I said, I know your type…” He rests his head on his hands and gazes up at Blast Off. “C’mon, whatcha say? All I’m askin’ is for you to just talk to the guy. Who knows, you might be surprised- you could even find you like him! Or… eh, maybe that’s pushing it. Ok, maybe you can tolerate him? That’s probably as far as YOU ever go, isn’t it?” He laughs again.

Blast Off’s optics narrow and he stands straight, looking as dignified and aloof as possible. He stands there, studying Vortex for a long moment. He really doesn’t like this new mech already… but Vortex is perceptive, and he IS right, Blast Off could use the money. Swindle is still nearby, discreetly sorting through various weapons as he listens in. Finally, the shuttleformer sighs, “Very well. I will *listen* to your Boss. I make no other promises. If he annoys me, I shall leave.” Many Cybertronians are put off by Blast Off’s default, almost subconsciously imperious manner. Vortex does not appear to be one of them, eagerly agreeing with a strange, almost merry- in a possibly menacing way- twinkle in his optic. Arraignments are made to meet this mysterious figure at a fine restaurant not too far into the future.


	5. Fateful Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blast Off finally meets with this mysterious "Boss" Vortex spoke of. Will a space shuttle deign to work for a mere "ground-pounder"?

Blast off arrives at the appointed restaurant promptly on time. The shuttleformer always strives to be professional and punctual, even in odd circumstances such as these. He still doesn’t like that gray Rotary… but he agreed to meet with Vortex’s mysterious Boss because the ‘coptor was right… Blast Off does need the money. Money it sounded like this Boss might be able to offer him. Then perhaps he can quit this “security” work he’s suddenly found himself doing and get back to the Cybertronian Exploration Council and living the high life, as he is accustomed… and as he deserves, as a space shuttle.

All he knows is a name. Onslaught. Stepping inside the building, he makes an inquiry at the reception. The head waiter glances up at him, studying him a moment, before nodding to a side hall. “Follow the hall- that’ll lead you to an elevator. Onslaught’s on the top floor. He’s waiting for you.” Blast Off nods and heads down the hallway. He feels slightly impatient, though his outward demeanor doesn’t reflect this. He has better things to be doing. Now he’s searching for jobs, worrying about money?…. This is all so annoying. He just wishes things would go back to the way they used to be, and he wouldn’t need to step outside of his comfortable life again. His… comfort zone. 

He’s distracted enough with these thoughts he could have almost missed the bulky green shape that suddenly comes tromping out from a connecting hallway. But… not quite. For this mech is *loud*. He appears to be some sort of tank. Not tall, but… short and powerful-looking. The mech stomps up towards the elevator, takes notice of Blast Off, and fixes him with an angry glare. “You lookin’ at ME?” Another loud footstep, this time towards the brown and purple shuttle, and he clenches his fists.

Blast Off is indeed looking at him. With annoyance… and with some distaste as he is reminded of encountering those drunken mechs in the overpass tunnel. “Of course I am. You’re too loud.” He sniffs with disdain, then starts to move past the tank to reach the elevator. Where he then hesitates. Maybe he should just let this buffoon take the elevator… he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t want to share that cramped space with him, anyway. He looks up, wishing there was somewhere he could just fly up to see Onslaught, but this building is obviously built to accommodate “ground-pounders”, not just fliers. That’s when the nearby ground-pounder reaches over to grab him by the shoulder and yank him back so they stand face to face again. The grip is a powerful one, and the shuttleformer’s light armor dents ever-so-slightly where his shoulder was held. “I was speakin’ to you!!” The tank bellows.

Blast Off goes into full alert now, stepping back to increase distance as the tank yells at him. He’s surprised… and angry now, as well… though his only sign of anger is his flashing violet-gray optics. “….I don’t care. I have business to attend to. Now go on your way and I will do the same.” This mech is spoiling for a fight, apparently… and this hallway is not a good place for one. Especially not for Blast off, who needs some distance to move, dodge… and fly. For the first time, he considers bringing out his ionic blaster from subspace… but again- not a good place for that. Not unless the restaurant owners and this Onslaught mech were going to take kindly to him shooting the place up.

The green tank yells in rage for a response and lunges at Blast Off. Apparently this mech doesn’t really care about trashing the place, or the irate restaurant owners. No, he’s some bulky dumb brute spoiling for a fight. Blast off doesn’t wait around, nimbly ducking to the right as the tank sends a savage uppercut his way. The shuttle continues ducking and dodging, moving away and seeking some space as the tank keeps coming at him with swings and yelling, “STAY STILL, SLAG IT ALL!” 

Unfortunately for Blast Off, this tank has an advantage here. The confined space keeps Blast off from just flying away. And being forced into close combat is not his forte’. The shuttleformer is extremely quick, agile, and has deadly accuracy when he’s shooting. He does extremely well in the vast reaches of space he was built for. But he’s not built for up close combat in confined areas. Heavy armor would just slow him down, so it’s only a light layer- mostly intended to help with the rigors of planetary reentry. And his intricate and complicated shuttle systems leave him a bit on the-he would never admit this- fragile side- but he is. And his strength…. let’s just say that if he punched this heavily armored tank back, it might at most be a tickle to the green mech. 

Despite all this, his agility saves him from the blows. For every lunge and every jab, every right hook and left, the shuttleformer keeps one step ahead. Still trying to move back, with the green mech still moving forward to close the gap, Blast Off reaches the end of a hallway. He gripes, “What is your *problem*? Don’t make me bring out my weapon…” Of course, Blast off could just turn tail and run, but his pride nixes that idea. He doesn’t RUN from anyone. It wouldn’t be dignified. Instead, he seems to be doing well simply evading. Rounding the corner through a doorway, he almost stumbles over several tables in an enclosed patio. Reacting quickly, he leaps onto a chair and hops back behind it. The tank… just barrels through, knocking the table and chairs aside.

Blast Off looks around, noticing his space to dodge is getting smaller… and no one’s around somehow. The only hints of life are the security cameras watching from above. Surely some security personnel should be coming soon? Or do they just not care? No time to ponder long as another vicious right jab from the tank comes flying towards Blast Off, who dodges that, again… and grabs a nearby table. The shuttleformer shoves it on its side and thrusts it at the tank, who briefly stops before knocking it aside. Blast Off continues this, rolling one table after another, always moving back and using tables to block the other mech’s progress. 

When there are enough impediments, the shuttle proceeds to use the obstacle course to his advantage- deftly jumping and ducking through the tables while the clumsier, slower tank is slowed down. In fact, Blast Off’s nearly at the door when a table actually goes flying past his head, smashing into the doorway and blocking his quick exit. He freezes a moment, staring at the wreckage, then back at the strongmech who comes crashing towards him, knocking everything in his path aside. With one mighty leap and a thunderous landing, he smashes down near the shuttleformer and raises his fist to pummel him. Except… he’s not there anymore. Blast Off ducks down through the wreckage, emerging again with his ionic blaster in hand near the tank’s side. The tank swings his hand around- and the confrontation suddenly ends with a standoff. The green mech has grabbed Blast Off’s shoulder again, and draws his other fist to punch… but Blast off stands with his gun aimed right at the tank’s head, nearly touching it, optics flashing angrily. They stand there, ventilation systems heaving, staring at each other…. Until the tank suddenly laughs. “Aw, sure, bring a gun to a fist fight. Some mechs have no sense of humor, ya know?” He releases Blast Off’s shoulder, punches the table blocking the doorway instead of Blast Off, and leaves through the hallway.

Blast Off stands there and stares a moment, not sure what just happened. He finally makes his way over, inwardly cringing at the mess. If HE gets stuck with the cleanup bill, that’s going to make things even tighter financially. He looks for the tank, who is nowhere to be seen now, and heads into the elevator and up to the top floor. He pauses a moment, vents cycling air more slowly again. 

……

Stepping out into a dimly lit, elegant dining area, he notices there are only a few mechs here. There are some guests, but mostly waiters and crew. Most of whom seem to be serving someone sitting off in a corner. 

As Blast Off comes in, the individual sitting in the corner motions to the shuttle, who walks up to him. “Welcome. I am Onslaught. Please, sit down.” He gestures to the seat opposite him at the table, and Blast Off does so, sitting straight in his chair with his customary poise. Some light refreshments are ordered, then Onslaught leans in, hands steepled. He speaks with a very proper, sophisticated accent… not unlike Blast off’s, but a slightly different dialect. “I am glad you came. I trust it wasn’t too difficult to get in?”

Blast Off eyes him for a moment. The mech has an unusual color scheme, much as Blast Off does. Onslaught is a green-blue with yellow optics. However, as Blast Off is disappointed to see, Onslaught appears to be some sort of… ground vehicle? He’s not even a jet or a helicopter. Essentially he’s a ground-pounder, though perhaps in root mode he might be able to fly at least somewhat. The shuttleformer feels some disdain, and thinks it highly unlikely he’d ever take orders from a ground-pounder like this mech. However, he seems rather… sophisticated, in his own way, so Blast Off politely remains seated. He considers for a moment.

“Well, it was not… difficult. However, there was some… trouble when I tried to enter the elevator. Some bulky green hooligan tried to get in a fight with me, for no reason. I… convinced him otherwise. He made a bit of a mess, unfortunately…” Blast Off again hopes no one is going to consider him financially responsible for any of this. “However, if the staff checks the security cameras, I am sure they can see what happened and identify the perpetrator.”

“Ah yes. Like this, you mean?” Onslaught produces a remote control, which he turns to click at a screen nearby. It turns on and Blast Off can see several security camera feeds- including the hallway and patio he just had his “fight” in. Staff is busy cleaning the area up. The shuttleformer stares at it, then at Onslaught. Indignant anger starts to grow. Was he *watching* the whole time? “…..What is the meaning of this?”

The blue-green mech goes back to steepling his hands, gazing at his “guest.” “I must apologize to you, Blast Off. But with my line of work, I need to be careful. I need to know what a mech is made of…*before* I hire him. I already know that you are a space transport and a sharpshooter. Thanks to my …associate, Brawl, I now know much more. You are fast, agile, and capable of thinking quickly in a stressful situation. However, you hesitate to get too close and physical. Or too…“committed”. You’re hands-off, preferring to shoot from a distance like a sniper, even when cornered. But you *will* shoot if pressed hard enough.”

Blast Off has heard enough. This… this /ground-pounder/ thinks he can just manipulate him like this and get away with it? He stands up. “I think I am *quite* done here. Good day.” He says stiffly, then turns to leave. Onslaught just watches all this, hands still steepled.

As the shuttleformer begins his exit, Onslaught calls to him. “You are- unless you’d like to get your revenge on the Krylaxxians.”

This stops Blast Off cold, and he turns to look at Onslaught, still flashing that quiet anger in his optics. The Krylaxxians, of course, were the organics who hurt him so long ago. Made him realize he needed better defenses… and in some ways led him to where he is now, a sharpshooter trying to make some money as a security guard. “…Who ARE you? How do you know that?” To this, Onslaught gestures again at the seat across the table. Blast off hesitates, then slowly makes his way back and grudgingly sits down.

A waiter brings refeshments and leaves. Onslaught eats one, then leans in as before. Blast Off leans back now, arms crossed, full of righteous anger and ready to leave in an instant. Onslaught begins, “I am a business mech, of sorts. I have several enterprises, many of them in security and logistics, as well as some… mercenary work. I know many people, and I can obtain required information. Including old files from the CEC regarding your missions in space exploration. I have done my groundwork on you, Blast Off. This is because I am considering hiring you for a job… a job which involves taking out a Krylaxxian Space Station. They have stolen some things that do not belong to them… and my associates and I have been hired to get them back. I believe your unique set of talents would be of great use to this particular mission.”

Blast Off stares at him, torn between indignant outrage at the snooping and manipulation (he’s a very private mech)… and a sudden interest in this mission. Somehow, the idea of getting revenge on the Krylaxxians is an appealing one. It could finally prove that yes, he really is superior to those miserable organics. Of COURSE he is. They just got lucky that one time, is all. Since he was far more naïve then. He is less naïve now.

Now he’s the one leaning in, though his arms are still crossed. “What exactly did you have in mind for me? Also, Vortex said that this job would be a well-paid one. Is it?” Onslaught reflects on this, tapping fingers together for a moment. “Yes. The technology they stole is worth a great deal. Enough that our sponsors are paying us quite well to retrieve it. As for you, this is a job that will require sharpshooting skills- and ease in moving through the void of space. Also…” Onslaught seems to hesitate ever-so-slightly, then continues. “I am aware you rarely transport crews anywhere these days. However, it would be immensely helpful if we had one single shuttle- you- and the ease of loading cargo that that would entail. Your pay would increase commensurately, of course.”

Blast Off isn’t pleased with this, and looks down at the plate of energon hors d'oeuvres in front of him. He picks at one, the replies, “I am… uncertain. I would prefer simply to be a sharpshooter. Transport… can entail more complications.” He then adds, “This is IF I were to take this job, which …I haven’t decided yet.”

Onslaught nods. “I see. You’ll need to decide soon. We leave in just a few orbital cycles. But… in case this helps…” The blue-green truck hands him a datapad showing some of the cargo to be stolen back- and how much it’s worth. The shuttleformer’s optics carry a flicker of interest. This… could most definitely help pay his bills. For quite some time.

The shuttle looks up at Onslaught and regards him quietly for a long while. Finally, he speaks. “…If I agree to this, then that means you agree to MY transport conditions. *I* make the rules concerning passengers and cargo. For both your safety, and mine.” 

Onslaught agrees with a nod of his head. “Of course. I will do my job, and I will let you do yours.”

“Very well, then,” Blast Off places the datapad down on the table and sips his drink. “I accept.”

Onslaught gives him the time and place to meet. Blast Off cannot then know how this day- and this meeting with a “ground-pounder”- has changed the course of his life.


	6. Return of the Krylaxxians- Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blast Off shuttles Onslaught and the rest of his team to take the stolen equipment back from the Krylaxxian Space Station. This might work IF the shuttle can stand dealing with the Krylaxxians again... or dealing with this new crew. (Part One)

The departure date arrives quickly, not leaving Blast off with much time to prepare for his first mercenary mission. But he is, as ever, a precise professional, and despite the short time he manages to be ready. There are many preflight checklists, refueling, emergency preparedness and other details that must be attended to, in addition to making sure all his systems are ready for launch on the big day. And… there’s the fact that he will have passengers this time. He doesn’t like it, but it is what it is, and he makes sure his interiors are as spotless as possible and the cargo area is ready to hold the expected haul.

When the others arrive at the launching pad, Blast Off is already transformed into shuttle mode and ready to go. He doesn’t see the point in wasting any time. He also isn’t one for small talk. He transmits to Onslaught and his crew,**Enter the cargo bay doors, find a seat, then we shall leave. Do NOT make a mess or cause undue disturbance.** Onslaught seems unfazed by this, nods, and replies, “Excellent. Let us be on our way, then.” He carries a small crate of supplies.

His “associates” follow behind. Blast Off recognizes each one: the weapons dealer Swindle, the rotary Vortex, and the tank who picked a fight with him earlier…. What was his name again? Ah yes, Brawl. Onslaught walks inside, the picture of calm, intelligent confidence. He heads directly to a seat and sits down, placing the crate next to him and pulling out a datapad. He begins to look through various maps and schematics. The military-grade truck mech gives the impression of already being five steps ahead of everyone else- or is it fifty? 

Vortex has an intelligent look as well, as he walks along the shuttle’s fuselage and seems to inspect every tiny ding or crack in Blast Off’s metal plating. But there is something far less calm and much more twitchy, like a cat looking for something to toy with. As he heads towards the door, he lifts his hand up to lightly touch the shuttle’s sides as he walks by. His digits trail on the surface as he continues inside, until Blast Off’s engines rumble slightly. “/Less/ touching, /more/ getting to your seat.” Vortex chuckles at that, his red visor glittering- but does as told. 

Then Brawl comes stomping in. His look is decidedly LESS than intelligent. Blast Off has to stifle a huff as the strong tank proceeds to head in with all the grace of a turbo-bull in a china shop. In fact, the cannon on the tank mech’s back manages to smack into Blast Off’s doorframe as he enters, and the shuttle’s engines rumble again. Onslaught looks calmly up from his datapad with the ease and practice of one who has dealt with this sort of thing many times before. “Brawl, do be careful. Your seat. Now.” Then it’s back to reading his datafeeds and ignoring the rest. Brawl grumbles but does as told.

Bringing the intelligence level back up again is Swindle, the last one to enter and busy talking on a personal radio to someone. “…Yes, but that was TWO VORNS ago. You’ve got to keep up with demand, or you’ll get left behind by customers seeking a newer product…” He pauses to give a small wave and smile to the shuttle as he enters, “Hi there, Blast off, how’re ya?...” Then he’s back to his business dealings as he takes a seat and looks for some onboard snacks. Finding none, there’s a small disappointed sigh, then he continues his conversation until the shuttle is ready to leave.

Blast Off wastes no time launching once everyone is settled, heading up with his new passengers towards the vast, welcome expanse of space above.

……………….

Several cycles later, the space shuttle and his passengers approach the Krylaxxian Space Station. Blast off has to wonder how they are supposed to get in unnoticed. He’s fast, but he doesn’t have cloaking technology or anything. But Onslaught has this already covered, of course. During the voyage there, Blast Off had picked up a few things… including the fact that while Brawl and Vortex were part of Onslaught’s direct “crew”… Swindle was actually an independent contractor. He’d known Onslaught for quite awhile, however, and the military truck mech occasionally hired him for jobs. This was one such job.

Onslaught asks Blast Off to open a direct link to the Krylaxxian Station, which he does. Onslaught also takes a device form the small crate he brought- a sort of cloaking device meant to mask life signs. The organic Krylaxxians look just as Blast off remembers, and when they speak to inquire about the ship’s business, that sound causes the shuttle to shudder involuntarily. Onslaught and Vortex seem to notice this, their optics glancing at the walls briefly before returning to the matter at hand. But Blast off can’t help it… the close proximity of the aliens that damaged him so badly so long ago- and so far away from any help- brings bad memories, and a trace of fear that he quickly moves to suppress. The shuddering ceases.

That’s about the moment Swindle earns his keep. For the first time, and it won’t be the last. The weapons dealer puts on his biggest, greasiest smile and immediately starts engaging with the Kyrlaxxian officer on the other side of the camera. Swindle informs the organics he is simply a robot with elaborate programming sent to travel to likely business areas by some merchant- an organic merchant, of course. As a faithful servant to his sentient organic master, he travels the galaxy selling his wares. There is some suspicion at first, but Swindle’s friendly, easy-going nature seems to eventually put the organic at ease. The other root-mode mechs stay out of visual range. 

Swindle tells the officer that he’s there to see if the Krylaxxians have an interest in buying some weapons and military vehicles. Reluctant at first, the organic soon has his Superior Officer on the screen, agreeing to meet Swindle in person. Onslaught sends a silent radio signal to Blast Off to head in to dock, which is what he does. And he remains in shuttle mode for now, as per his orders. He has an irrational fear that the Krylaxxians will remember him and come to finish what they started so long ago, but the shuttle is left in peace.

Swindle heads to the cargo bay door, as Onslaught, Brawl and Vortex transform inside the shuttle. Vortex comes to rest in helicopter mode while sitting on top of Onslaught’s carrier bed. It’s a tight fit, but they manage. Another radio message from Onslaught and Blast off reluctantly opens his cargo bay doors to the waiting Krylaxxians. There’s a hitch in his ventilation systems as he’s now worried the organics are going to actually *come inside* again. He’s not sure he could stand that. Fortunately, it seems Onslaught may have already factored that in and Swindle immediately moves to step outside and greet the organics there. He engages them, trying to sell fine wares he has, but insists the inside of the cargo bay isn’t quite habitable to organic life. But he’d be *happy* to wheel these vehicles out for a demonstration.

The Krylaxxians are suspicious, and run several scans on these vehicles, Swindle, and his ship. But it appears that if they even recognize Cybertronian life AS life- which seems doubtful- the cloaking technology has done its thing and they simply register one mechanical robot and several insentient air and land craft. So they agree, and Swindle proceeds to act like he’s remote-controlling Onslaught and Brawl out of the cargo bay and with him into the docking area. This is followed by several hours of demonstrations, negotiations, and small talk. Blast off remains idling at dock, doing his best insentient shuttle impersonation. And mostly just tunes out what is being said… he has never been a fan of small talk, after all. 

Eventually Swindle makes a deal with the Krylaxxians and they head off somewhere to finalize the details and sign contracts. The “vehicles” are parked off in a storage area away from the main docking bay. And the shuttle continues to sit there, docked, systems on a low-powered standby.

The Krylaxxians are still on alert, but after hours of nothing happening, their guard has dropped some. Eventually there comes a point that none of them are actually in the docking bay. That’s when Onslaught, Brawl and Vortex get to work. Off in the storage area, Onslaught uses another device to interfere with security camera feeds, causing a false loop of earlier footage. Then he and his mechs get to work searching for the cargo they’re here to find. Blast off waits in shuttle mode, ready for loading- and a quick getaway.

Some of the goods are located and placed in Blast off’s cargo bay. But some of the equipment has yet to be found- until Swindle sends a message to Onslaught that it is located further inside the station. Onslaught isn’t pleased, having expected it to be in one place- there and ready to ship- but he is prepared. Vortex is a bit quicker and lighter of foot than the other two, so he is the one sent inside the station to obtain the rest of what they came here for.

Vortex has just slipped away about the moment a Krylaxxian docking bay worker walks into the area. The organic plods along, obviously thinking about anything *except* a giant alien robot invasion, when he finally happens to look up. The worker and the two remaining mechs stand there and simply stare at each other for awhile. Then the Krylaxxian blinks, takes a step back- and draws a weapon. He fires at Onslaught just as Brawl fires back at him… and the worker definitely loses that fight. But not before an alarm is sounded.

Onslaught grumbles about changing plans, and motions to Brawl to follow him as he heads into the station after Vortex. Blast Off receives a radio transmission from the leader of the mission.**Plans have changed. Engage in Plan Convergence Delta Five** The shuttle actually knows what this is, since he was briefed earlier. Also known as “Plan B”. His job is now to leave the dock and head to the upper levels where Swindle has indicated the rest of the cargo is and meet someone there. Swindle, Vortex… whoever can get the equipment and load him up with it so they can all leave- quickly.

His systems come back online and thrusters rumble with life as he breaks away and heads back into space… and up towards the upper decks. There’s no time to lose. He can hear the sounds of gunfire just before he reaches the vacuum of space again… the time for sneaking around is over. It helped them gain some of their target…but not all. Now it’s time for plan B…Time for combat.


End file.
